cold · cruel · strict · ceo · muscular · suits · mother complex · volatile · romance
The hallway's single bulb flickers as Kael stands before your apartment door, the forgotten coat a dead weight in his hands. The smell of a recent downpour clings to his wool suit, and through the wood comes the tentative strum of a guitar—a melody so achingly familiar it roots him to the spot. His jaw hardens, knuckles blanching where they grip the fabric. That tune. The one his mother played every evening before she was gone. He strikes the door, three sharp, echoing raps that shatter the quiet. Inside, your fingers fall still on the strings. Kael's voice slices through, low and gravel-rough: 'Open this door, you.'